


When Opportunity Comes a-Knockin'

by KremGoblin95



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Charlastor Week, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Extended Scene, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Soft Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:08:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22989091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KremGoblin95/pseuds/KremGoblin95
Summary: They say that when God closes a door, He opens a window.Well everyone knows He doesn't do shit down here in Hell, so Alastor figures he's just gonna have to open that window for the princess himself.Written for Charlastor Week 2020 - Day 6: Hurt/ComfortorDay 7: Free Day
Relationships: Alastor & Charlie Magne, Alastor/Charlie Magne
Comments: 15
Kudos: 151





	When Opportunity Comes a-Knockin'

**Author's Note:**

> Minor Note: "Bondye" is the Vodou name of God. Yes, that's one of many noteworthy things about Vodou: there are many Loa, but only one God. Vodouisants serve the Loa, but they only worship one God, and that God is Bondye. The name is derived from French, literally meaning "good God". Just a little bit of Cajun/Creole flavor for our boy Alastor. Honestly, researching Vodou is one of my favorite things about writing Alastor. Anyway - let's get on with it, shall we?

The moment the signal to the TVs in Radio Hack's display window cut out — and of course it just _had_ to cut out right when it was getting to the best part, with the princess simultaneously pulling two of that Katie Killjoy's arms into half-nelsons and trying to use her leg to put the newscaster in a chokehold, all while poor Tom Trench writhed on the floor in agony — Alastor spun on his heel and ran off toward the news station. His fellow bystanders behind him, who had just seconds ago been cheering at the brawl - some even rooting for the princess - all groaned at the black screens in disappointment, but Alastor paid them no mind. He was on a mission. He had to catch that girl as soon as he possibly could.

He was only a little over a block away when his attention was caught by a fanged, white limousine – one that he recognized as belonging to the royal family – driving away from the station. He paused and followed it with his eyes. It was headed for the east side. Perhaps the king and queen had already done damage control and were on their way back to the palace with their daughter in tow? Whatever the case, he had to follow it. He couldn't let her get away.

Alastor slipped into the shadows to follow the limo more discreetly. When they passed the Nightmare Night Club, he finally saw it. An exceptionally tall building with elaborately cut windows all over its outside and a large, light-up sign at the very top that read “HAPPY HOTEL.”

Perfect.

He followed close behind the limo as it pulled up to the hotel's front entrance. As he watched, three people exited the vehicle: a short young woman with a pink hairbow adorning a thick blanket of silvery hair, its long ribbons and her one striped stocking the only accents of color on her otherwise monochrome attire; a _very_ tall and effeminate-looking fellow with four arms and wearing a pink-and-white-striped suit jacket with matching pink gloves; and the lovely blond princess herself. Alastor let them enter the building before he stepped out of the shadows and took a moment to gaze up at it. It certainly was a rather eclectic collection of architecture, its east side alone boasting such oddities as a carousel and a steamship with its bow pointed skyward.

The limo drove away, which Alastor took as his cue to approach the hotel. He had a plan. He was going to knock on that door, introduce himself to Hell’s princess, and offer her his assistance. He felt reasonably confident she would let him give it, which would definitely be more convenient for all involved, because she was going to get his assistance whether she wanted it or not. The very concept behind this silly hotel was simply too good for him to pass up. Sure, everyone had laughed at the idea of redeeming sinners into Heaven — and, in all fairness, Alastor had to agree that the idea _was_ outright laughable — but he realized something he knew Katie Killjoy hadn’t: the princess was onto something. Out of the literal trillions (and counting!) of souls in all of Hell, there _had_ to be at least _one_ person – maybe more! – here in the Pit who would be willing to try anything to get out if there was even a remote chance of it working. It couldn’t possibly, of course — they were already in Hell, after all! — but to watch people try and fail would be such an utter joy!

Besides, Alastor had to admit—there was something about that princess. She was bold and confident in a way few managed, belting her heart out on live TV about a frankly absurd idea of hers and still managing a brave face. Her song, while certainly different from his usual preferences, had had a chaotic energy Alastor could only strive for—something she had clearly thrown so much passion into. And she was no pushover, either! She absolutely did _not_ stand for that obnoxious Killjoy woman badmouthing her or her ideas—she wasn’t afraid to fight tooth and nail for what she believed in, something it seemed few had the guts to do anymore. Of course their jabs had gotten to her – she was such an overly idealistic creature – but she had made a valiant effort defending her integrity and being the bigger person. Now, Alastor supposed she was pretty, to be sure, and a sweetheart, too. But more than that, she was a musical soul. She was a fighter. She wasn’t afraid to stand up for herself. That kind of combination was so rare! He had to see more of it! He had to make himself a part of this ridiculous hotel project!

Such was his intention as he approached the front door — when all of a sudden it started opening.

In a rare flash of panic, Alastor sidestepped into the shadows, manifesting again with his back against the west wall, waiting for whoever had just stepped out to go away so he could make a fresh impression on the princess in private.

Only that notion was put on hold when he heard the princess’s voice.

“Hey Mom! Um… I know I keep calling, and — er, you must be busy! …really…busy…but, um…the interview didn’t go well, and…”

Alastor stared directly in front of him in disbelief. He could _hear_ the princess deflating, the smile she had tried so hard to keep up dropping from her face as his ears picked up the sound of her sliding down the door to sit on the ground. He even thought – but almost refused to believe – he could hear her voice starting to waver with tears as she let out her hurt to someone who wasn’t even there.

“I-I don’t – know if I’m going to make a difference. I don’t know what I’m doing. I could really use some advice, Mom.”

Alastor found himself staring forlornly at the ground, a close-lipped, joyless smile stretched across his face. He remembered his own mother; the sweetest, most loving woman he’d ever known in his life. A woman who was always there for him, who always tried to make the best of any situation. A woman who deserved a better lot in life. A better man to call her son. Surely she was up in Heaven where she ought to be. Surely such a sweetheart as the princess deserved a mother like Alastor’s. Now that he thought about it, the princess was a girl after his mother’s heart. She had deserved so much better than an unrepentant killer like Alastor; shouldn’t the princess deserve better than an unresponsive mother like Lilith?

“I… I think Dad – was right about – me….”

Alastor felt his grip on his microphone stand tighten. Whatever Lucifer had said, he was sure it wasn’t true; he was the Father of Lies! Whatever he had said to his own daughter to make her so upset _had_ to be untrue! The princess was an open and honest hellspawn — already two things that made her better than most of the sinners down here. Such a bubbly optimist, someone who wanted to help people to be better — hell, someone who didn’t _belong_ in Hell! She belonged among the angels with Alastor’s dear mother, with Saint Peter, with the Almighty Father Bondye—!

But Alastor was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the princess let out a mirthless chuckle as she continued her voice message. He could hear her trying to smile again despite everything as she stood up.

“Oof, eh, anyway. I’ll stop talking before this gets long. Love you! Bye….”

There was a brief moment of silence as Alastor heard her smile drop once again right before he heard the door open and close again. She must have gone back inside.

That settled it, then.

His grin set with determination, Alastor straightened up and marched over to the front door, giving it a “shave-and-a-haircut” series of solid knocks. He then waited for the door to open, clasping his hands behind his back, relaxing his face (except for his ever-present grin) and closing his eyes as he exhaled softly through his nose. When he opened them again on hearing the door open, he glanced down to see the princess staring up at him, her eyes widening in shock and fear. Fear that would surely be dispelled as soon as he introduced and explained himself.

“Hel—”

_SLAM!_

A brief pause. The door swiftly opened again, revealing the princess gaping up at him in utter confusion.

“—lo!”

_SLAM!_

Alastor stayed there, not moving, as the princess called something muffled that sounded like “Hey, Vaggie?” on the other side of the door. He could stand there forever if he had to. He had made his mind up and nothing was going to change it. This girl _needed_ his help. After all, if _he_ didn’t stop to treat her like the angelic princess she was, who would?

Eventually she did reopen the door, this time with an expression that looked like she was trying her best to carry a dignified air. Not a bad effort on that front, by the way, but those sweet rosy cheeks were just too adorable to be intimidating.

“May I speak now?” Alastor asked somewhat exasperatedly.

“You may,” she answered.

“Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you, sweetheart — quite a pleasure!”

* * *

“Oh dear, this place _is_ filthy!” Alastor observed as he walked into the kitchen, immediately closing the door behind him; he didn’t want darling Niffty to have a seizure and start convulsing uncontrollably at the sight, after all. He gave the dusty and disorganized mishmash of pots, pans, and other utensils a critical once-over before simply tutting and shaking his head disapprovingly. “No no—this simply won’t do at all!” he announced to himself before snapping his fingers.

In an instant, his shadowy minions were upon the mess, cleaning and rearranging everything in a wild frenzy that almost made little Niffty look slow by comparison. Yet even at this pace, he knew it would take quite some time for the kitchen to even be usable. That jambalaya would just have to wait a bit.

“Hey, Al?”

He turned to see the princess cautiously peeking into the kitchen with a sheepish little smile on her face. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to let her see.

“Yes, my dear?”

“I, uh…” she continued as she stepped in. “I just….” She trailed off as she gaped up in awe at the shadows swirling all around the kitchen — dark, yet visibly making it cleaner slowly but surely. Alastor’s eyes crinkled fondly at her expression. Such innocence. Well—maybe not _innocence_ , per se, but definitely a sense of wonder most folk down here simply didn’t have. It was so…refreshing. But as much as he would have loved to continue staring at her starry-eyed face, he knew he had to bring her back to the present, so he cleared his throat to get her attention.

“What can I do for you, sweetheart?”

The princess stared back at him again and blinked several times as though she had only just realized Alastor was there. She giggled, embarrassed, as she tried to collect herself again.

 _Now there’s a laugh I’d like to hear more often_ , thought Alastor.

“Sorry.” She cleared her own throat with a smile before continuing. “I just was thinking. I’m super grateful you’ve decided to help with the hotel, I really am. But I think maybe we need to talk more about the whole ‘business’ part. You know. Make sure we’re on the same page.”

“And reach that page together in case we aren’t?” Alastor supplied.

“Yeah!” she nodded, positively beaming now. Alastor couldn’t help his own smile growing in excitement — her cheer was downright infectious. “Yeah, exactly!”

“That sounds like an excellent idea, my dear!”

She giggled again, brushing a few stray bangs out of her eyes. “You know, you can just call me Charlie. Really. I want you to.”

“Then I suppose I will, my dear Charlie!”

Another giggle. Alastor couldn’t help himself this time. He reached out, grabbed her hands in both of his, and, before she could say anything in protest or agreement, twirled her into a dip. When she recovered from the surprise, Charlie blinked up at him before giving him a full-fledged playful laugh and flashing him an ecstatic grin which he happily returned. She let out a contented hum as she brushed her bangs away from her eyes again.

“You know, you’re quite the dancer,” she admitted, fluttering her eyelashes at him coquettishly with a coy smile on her full, black lips.

“Well, I _have_ had several decades to hone my skills,” Alastor answered evenly, pulling her back up to a standing position.

Instead of dusting herself off, straightening herself up and going back to a friendly yet confident stance like he had expected her to, though, Charlie used the lull in his action to throw her arms around his shoulders, pressing their noses together not unlike he had done mere minutes ago when she’d answered the door and let him speak. Alastor stiffened at the action — for someone with so little regard for others’ personal space, he himself didn’t like to be touched by surprise, either — but he didn’t do anything to pull away. He was a bit lost in the princess’s playful smirk and wide, shining, excited eyes.

They stayed like that for a couple seconds before Charlie finally put some distance between them to talk to him directly: “I really am glad you’re helping me out here, Alastor. Even if you’re not _really_ doing it for the hotel’s sake, I’m honestly really grateful you’re helping at all. And um…” she glanced to the side, unable to look him in the eye for the briefest of seconds. “I’m glad you’re choosing a less…” she looked back up at him again as she continued, “ _violent_ way to get your kicks. It’s really encouraging.”

Alastor blinked, unsure how to respond at first. Then he cautiously placed his own hands on her waist as a tentative step toward returning her embrace.

“Well, gotta shake it up sometimes,” he answered jokingly, playfully wiggling his shoulders as though to demonstrate.

Charlie chuckled at that, giving him another wide smile. Alastor decided it best not to tell her about everything that had happened that day of his first broadcast as a denizen of Hell; that Lucifer might still hate his guts for, in his words, “causing his daughter quite some distress”; how stunned he’d been to learn of the very existence of the Princess of Hell, let alone that his actions had upset her so; how intrigued he’d been by the very notion of her ever since. No, now was not the time for that. Now was the time to keep the princess in his arms smiling.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” said Charlie, absentmindedly straightening the Radio Demon’s bowtie.

On a sudden impulse, Alastor took hold of her hands and placed them around his neck, at the same time wrapping his own arms around Charlie’s waist and squeezing firmly as he lifted her a couple inches off the ground. When she recovered from the initial surprise, Charlie gripped the back of his overcoat tightly. Alastor smiled even wider when he felt her smile into his shoulder.

And just like that, almost as suddenly as he had initiated it, he broke the hug, lifting her into the air and beaming at her with something akin to pride while she grinned back at him with her hands still resting lightly on his shoulders. He then set her down, and when he folded his hands behind his back (as he was wont to do), she closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. When she opened her eyes again, she looked freshly energized, like the woman with a mission who had finished that flashy little musical number on the picture show.

“So!” Charlie started, clapping her hands and rubbing them together. “What should we discuss first?”

“Now?” Alastor asked incredulously before letting out a hearty peal of laughter. “Nonono, we’re not having that business discussion tonight, I’m afraid.”

Charlie furrowed her brow in confusion. “But you said—”

“Sometime tomorrow,” Alastor reassured her, summoning his mic stand. “Just give me a ring when the fancy strikes you.” He tapped the side of the microphone, conjuring in front of it a small card. Charlie took it, eyeing it with great interest. On it was printed an address, a phone number, a radio station channel number, and a deer hoofprint.

“And I’ll be there to answer. Promise,” he finished.

Charlie’s eyes widened in sudden realization at those words. She shrank back and clapped a hand to her mouth as she stared up at him, utterly mortified.

“I—!” she began once she took her hand away, but she was silenced almost immediately by Alastor firmly pressing a finger to her lips.

“Tonight,” he continued as though nothing had happened, “we celebrate a fresh start for this absurd little idea of yours!”

Charlie rolled her eyes at him and smiled despite herself as she brushed his hand away. “Well, is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.

Alastor couldn’t help laughing again. “Nononono — even if there were, I couldn’t possibly accept! This is my treat for you! All I need is time to get everything ready!”

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent!” Alastor began walking over to the stove as his shadow minions came close to finishing up the cleaning.

“There isn’t _anything_ I can do?”

The girl sure was persistent, wasn’t she? And yet, Alastor found he liked that about her. He rubbed his chin and hummed in thought. Then he snapped his fingers and grinned even wider when an idea suddenly came to him.

“Why don’t you go see what everyone wants to drink?” he offered, turning back to face her.

At that, Charlie straightened up with a determined grin and saluted. “Absolutely! What would you like, Al?”

“Oh, just a shot of bourbon for me, Charlie.”

“You got it!” And with that, she turned around and walked back out of the kitchen, closing the door behind her.

The invisible radio audience that always hung around Alastor cheered and applauded politely as though impressed with a particularly well-executed scene. He felt his chest swell as he heard someone whistle appreciatively, something he otherwise ignored in favor of staring fondly at the door where Charlie had been just seconds ago. He could still see her image in his mind, still feel her arms wrapped around his shoulders…

He closed his eyes and shook his head as though to clear it, not realizing the dreamy, faraway look his eyes and smile now held when he stopped. After another second, he willed his mic stand back to the ether and dusted himself off, turning back to the stove once again.

Yes, this would be _very_ entertaining indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> So basically, this is a summary of what keeps me sailing this ship: Alastor so clearly adores Charlie _so **much.**_ Well okay, realistically speaking, he at least obviously actually likes her, which is certainly still a step towards a working ship. He is such a strange individual, but he still has affection/fondness in his shriveled, blackened heart for one (1) demon princess. I love them.
> 
> And yes I know how late this is it's still the 14th where I live let me have this.
> 
>  **Music Used:** An endless loop of [this](https://youtu.be/lkqDaPhbPGU).


End file.
